Old City Bar
by Summoner Luna
Summary: Don't think about tomorrow, okay? xx Tifa. Avalanche. Immediately Pregame. xx Complete. xx
1. Last Christmas

_A bit of a holiday trilogy, I wrote these about a year and a half ago but figured, in light of the season, I may as well edit them a bit and post them here. :) Still not completely polished, but I promise the first is the worst of the three so don't let the cheese deter you!_

_Oh and...I kind of fudged the timeline by a couple of weeks. From the research I did I think they actually left a little before December 25, but since there's no actual mention in the game (or if there is I missed it), I figure I'm allowed a little bit of artistic license. ;-) And to be really technical, who says Gaia has to adhere to the Christian/Western calendar anyway:p_

* * *

Seventh Heaven always stayed open on the holidays. It wasn't that Tifa didn't celebrate, but it was her gesture of good will—anybody looking for an open bar on a night intended for staying home with friends and family, could only be out looking because they had no friends and family to go home to. Besides, the bar was her home--open or not, Tifa would still be there. She felt it was her gift to the slums, and often it was—she'd had people as far away as the fourth sector wander in for Thanksgiving Dinner before, strangers seated together sharing drinks and laughs like friends who had known each other for years.

This night though, this Christmas Eve, Tifa was pleased by her lack of business. At a glance, it may have been her busiest night—her bar was far from fully stocked, and the room was as loud as ever—but her last customer had left around sundown and she hadn't had one since. Now, Seventh Heaven was occupied only by Avalanche and their junior member Marlene. Barret, who was always considerably more upbeat when drinking, had been loudly declaring that his Christmas present would be a huge bonus for everyone, with little Marlene repeating his every word. Biggs and Wedge had given Jessie a book on electronics, and the three of them sat huddled around it, pointing out ideas they wanted to try, and bursting into excited shouts whenever they got to something Jessie had already come up with on her own. Tifa, always the observer, laughed at her friends from the bar where she was topping off mugs of spiced cider, cheering on the bomb squad as they generated one wild plot after another, and cutting off Barret when his language exceeded Marlene's appropriate vocabulary.

There was nothing to distinguish their celebration from any other house in the slums that night; the only thing different from any year before was the lack of outside company. But they were together—a big, loud, strange-looking family, and they were happy. None of them could have known that this was the last Christmas they would spend together, nor could they have predicted that just days later their fates would change forever. But even had they known, this evening, surrounded by the closeness and comfort that spending the holidays with friends can create, would have been everything they could have wished for.


	2. Winter Light

_Okay, maybe this is the worst of the bunch :) It's actually my favorite content-wise, but I feel like the style is choppy and awkward. But maybe that helps tell the story? You be the judge :) _

_Written for the prompt 'yellow' in the fanfic100 community on LJ. _

* * *

Three days after Christmas. Tifa guessed she was lucky for the time off they got--Barret had made a few discoveries that, with Jessie's technological prowess, had quickly evolved into what would be their first attack on Shinra. 

She was out that day in Sector 6 because of that mission. Though Avalanche was still fairly unknown in the slums, they had little hope of accessing the upper levels to gain information; however the Wall Market was still frequented by Shinra officials due to the seedy Honeybee Inn. Since Tifa was known to have the best bar in the slums, she had started making more and more visits to round up new customers, and this recruiting frequently resulted in Shinra employees coming to the bar and growing increasingly open with classified data as they drank.

It was shady, and definitely deceitful, but Tifa always convinced herself that it was just politics, and she was only deceiving the very people who had put Midgar in its current state. Her deceit would give them the information they needed to change the fate of the slums.

Barret had given them Christmas day off, as well as the remainder of the Christmas week. It should have been four days, but Jessie was so full of ideas that she wanted to start working right away. Anxiety grew palpable in the bar, but Tifa wondered if the others could even tell. While she was just as eager as any of them to begin the assault against Shinra, she never could shake away the nagging voice that told her their methods were no better, no matter how many times she told that voice that their goal was liberation, that they were protecting the planet. So close to the day of the attack, she just needed to get away--but then guilt set in, and now she found herself wandering the sixth sector hoping to bring in new business.

She found none. It was too early in the day for the Honeybee crowd to have arrived, and most of the people on the streets were either parents buying post-Christmas groceries, or the occasional flower vendor. There were no after-Christmas sales in the slums.

After a couple hours of just people-watching she noticed a new flower vendor, a girl about her own age, and it disturbed her. She was used to seeing young children and single mothers with their baskets, but this girl...Tifa watched her walking from place to place with a mingling of intrigue, nausea, and despair. This girl wasn't weighed down by life the way most of the other vendors were--the way most people in the slums were. There was a very faint, but very distinct glow that she emitted, separating her from everyone else in the filthy Midgar underworld.

Somewhat disgusted, Tifa started back home.

This is why we're fighting Shinra. She thought. That girl—that could have just as easily been me. But instead, I was given the chance to fight. I'm fighting for her.

Hot tears welled in her eyes as she thought of all the lives ruined by Shinra--the people killed by the wars and poverty, the towns destroyed by exploding reactors, the planet itself--and as she approached the Sector 7 train station she stopped and looked up at the plate looming over the dying soul of Midgar. Eight small slices of technology that would seal the fates of them all. An image of Marlene, grown-up and dirty and selling flowers in the streets coursed through her and she shouted to the plates, "It's all your fault! Everything! To hell with Shin—"

Her voice caught in her throat. Her sudden outburst disturbed a couple standing near a lamppost, and when they moved she saw that they had been blocking someone laying on the ground.

All she saw was a crumpled body donning a blue uniform—she could see neither face nor hair--but she would recognize that uniform anywhere. It was somebody from Soldier. She'd spent seven years pouring over every newspaper she could find, scrutinizing the articles and memorizing the photographs. She could still clearly remember the first time she ever saw one of them in person, could remember how she had fought back tears the entire time when the young man who had appeared in her town was a stranger.

Memories of the day grew in her mind on cue, visions so strong she could still feel the leather of the man's handshake, and smell the smoke that had kept her from pretending the flickering lights and frightened screams outside her window were part of a dream. She pictured Sephiroth, remembering how afraid of him she had been, but how happy she was to be around him anyway. Meeting Cloud's idol made her feel closer to him, connected in some way.

The black haired Soldier had reminded her so much of her lost friend. She smiled, thinking of the poor repair job that had been done on the cuff of the Soldier's pants—he'd used a horrible neon yellow thread, which made Tifa think it was the type of repair Cloud might have done.

She wondered why this Soldier (First Class, by the looks of it) was here in the slums. Despite her hatred for Shinra, she could never feel any anger towards Soldier. Of course she knew they were often one in the same--after-all, when Sephiroth had come to Nibelheim, it had only been because of Shinra's reactor--but any feelings of animosity brought with them the stab of betrayal.

To her, Solider would always mean Cloud, the boy from her childhood who haunted her dreams, the one cause of her greatest regret. She hadn't heard from him in seven years—she tried to convince herself that he was okay, that he was stuck on one of the outer continents, out of danger, and happy—but her heart told her otherwise.

She loved him. It was a truth she hadn't realized until it was too late, but it helped to keep her going. She knew she would see him again—she had to believe that she would, at least, because she had to tell him how she felt. It was why she had to convince herself that he was okay. She had lost everything from her childhood except for the small hope that Cloud was still alive, and it terrified her to think that she might have lost him too over belated promises and the blindness of youth.

Cloud had willingly joined Soldier, Tifa knew that. But it didn't stop her from feeling like it was just one more thing Shinra had taken away from her. However, while the flower girl had evoked anger and disgust towards the monsters on the plates, seeing this Soldier brought on quiet despair, the reminder that despite her outward cheerfulness, there were moments where Tifa felt she would never be happy, never be complete, again.

_"You promised…"_

She blinked, and watched a tear splash onto the cracked stone floor of the station.

Through blurry vision she saw one of the station guards walk past the young man and mutter something under his breath, and she took a few steps closer. Shinra or not, she felt the need to help the man in the Soldier uniform. A few more steps, and she stopped. Something had caught her eye, something that made her draw in her breath, made her heart stop mid-beat, as a gripping anxiety overtook her. Frozen, she stared at the familiar hem on the Soldier's pants—a neon yellow scar across blue knit. And as she stared the man shifted, revealing not the black hair she expected, but messy blond spikes.

For the first few seconds she stood motionless, unable to even breathe for fear that what she saw was a hallucination that might vanish at any moment.

Then, without bothering to fight them back, tears cascaded down her face, blinding her as she rushed to the lamppost and collapsed onto her childhood friend. He opened feeble eyes, and as she watched his cloudy mask of despair dawn into glowing recognition, her empty, lonely feeling started to slowly fade away into a smile.

* * *

_ I tried to reconcile it with Crisis Core, and if I remember correctly from reading scripts/watching you tube, Cloud wasn't actually wearing Zack's uniform, so...apologies :-( But, maybe Zack keeps a sewing kit with him and Cloud just happened to need a similar repair job done? _

_ One more in this set, but much shorter than this one :)_


	3. Interrupted By Fireworks

_The final part...short and sweet :) And I got to use the title of one of my favorite songs off the OST, which makes me happier than it probably should ;-)_

* * *

The air crackled--she could hear it. Maybe it was just perceived, but with the combination of tension and excitement in the air, she felt it was possible enough to believe.

Tomorrow was the day. They were going to bring in the New Year with an attack. Their last night…possibly their last night alive. Barret was confident. He was fueled by so much anger and determination there was no room left for doubt. Biggs and Wedge trusted the group. They trusted Barret and they trusted Jessie, and that was all they needed. Jessie was nervous—she wasn't afraid that it wouldn't work, but she was afraid of the consequences.

Tifa was terrified. She trusted them all…but she knew how much the mission meant to them. She knew if it came down to it, they would give their lives for their ideals and it worried her. She would not be with them. If something happened…she would be left alone. So when she saw the air crackle and felt the silence in the bar close in around her, she had to step outside.

Then there was Cloud. She had been so surprised to find him, and so worried about his vacant condition...she had to bring him home. Somehow she had thought…she shook her head. It was still too hard for her to admit. She wished she hadn't told him about the job, but in and out his delirium he had said so many things that had confused her, so many things he shouldn't know, and in the lucid moments he spoke of leaving to find work…she couldn't let him walk out. She had too many questions, and her hopes were still so high…But then he slipped back into that perpetual daydream and was now worse than when she had found him. Of course she wished for the night to see him back, but if he could wait just a bit longer…then she wouldn't have to sit the mission out alone…

A tear slid down her cheek and she thought that she had cried more times since Christmas than she had since—and she paused. Since the last time she was in the moonlight with Cloud. She turned to go back inside--tonight was not the time for fear or doubt or questioning—but the doorway was blocked.

"You're…up. Does that mean--?"

"I don't want to make any guesses for now. I'm here, at least until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" Her heart sunk at how he'd say "at least." There were truths she needed to know…and feelings that were becoming more and more difficult to hide. Tomorrow. One more way that he might once again be pulled from her life…one more time he might walk away. She stood up straighter and gave him the most genuine smile she could find. "Oh, I know everything will turn out fine. And Sector 1 is just the beginning, there will be plenty of work later and maybe Barret—"

"Hey—Don't talk about tomorrow, okay? Look." And he pointed up, where through the cracks of the plate the reflections of fireworks shone through. "Happy New Year, Tifa."

* * *

_Cloud, for anyone who was curious, is just about impossible to write during this frame of time...at least, I found it to be quite difficult. Though, there are so many writers on this site far more talented than myself who I'm sure would have no trouble :)_

_ I know these are not that great--they were written quite some time ago!--but I think they're cute, at least in content. And though it's a bit late at this point...Happy New Year everyone! May your 2008 be filled with hope and dreams :)_


End file.
